


Cotton-Ball with Legs

by rainlady



Series: Cotton-Ball with Legs [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alan Deaton is a Sneaky Bastard, Because Peter is Peter, Fluff, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Pre-Slash, SO MUCH FLUFF, Stylish the Maltipoo, and some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6686716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainlady/pseuds/rainlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter hadn't intended to adopt a dog.  Somehow he ends up with one anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cotton-Ball with Legs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mysenia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysenia/gifts).



> Got a prompt from [Mysenia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysenia/) on tumblr that went something like this: I wish you would write a fic where... Peter buys himself a puppy to form an approximation of a pack bond (since his pack have him so far on the edge he's really not a part of it) and Stiles notices and buys a puppy as well "because your puppy needs a friend, Peter!" but really because he wants the wolf to know he has at least one person who considers him pack. (maybe the four of them form their own little pack).
> 
> This takes off from the prompt but as with most of my stuff it got away from me and barely covers anything from the prompt. I will definitely be returning to this universe to write more. I loves me this universe a lot. 
> 
> This first part is more Gen-ish Peter than anything but he does think about Stiles and if the Series progress Stiles will be important so I am tagging this as the ship and labeling it as pre-slash.
> 
> Peter's Maltipoo in this fic looks something like [THIS](http://oi63.tinypic.com/5uelnt.jpg)

* * *

Peter hadn't intended to adopt a dog.

He'd gone to Deaton's with the singular purpose to yell at the vet/former emissary/possibly current emissary (who knew because Scott was a useless idiot of an Alpha who wouldn't know a proper pack if one sat in front of it and tried to claim his territory, who continued to refuse the assistance Peter had offered him on numerous occasions) for once again putting all of them (Stiles) in danger with his cryptic mumbo jumbo. He never pulled this sort of thing when Talia was alpha so it either meant this was one huge training exercise or that he didn't trust Scott as alpha anymore than Peter did.

Either way he was putting them all (Stiles) in danger and Peter was no longer going to just sit around and take it.

He'd been in the middle of his rant when a soft whine from one of the cages drew his attention. He'd crossed over to it before he'd even registered what he was doing. The other dogs in nearby cages backed away from his approach in fear but the mop of a dog in the cage he was standing in front of held its ground. It was small, clearly still a puppy and had to be about 95% fur which was curly and silky and a rich caramel color with bits of white spread throughout. 

Peter regarded the dog and the dog regarded Peter.

“What is that?” he asked a bit snidely when the dog refused to back down from the staring contest they were in the middle of.

“She...is a Maltipoo and you should calm down you're upsetting her...” Deaton said trying to pull Peter away from the cage.

Peter raised a brow at the dog in the cage. She looked anything but upset. He flashed his eyes at her and she let out a huff as she full out turned her back on him and went to the back of the cage to curl up in a blanket and gum at a ball she had hidden back there. 

Clearly she was as unimpressed with him as he was with her. Also...

“What the hell is a Maltipoo?” he said as the word finally registered in his brain.

“Maltese/Poodle mix,” Deaton explained finally able to draw Peter away from the cage. “Her owner brought her litter here to be adopted out as they were...well...an accident. She's the only one left...she's not as friendly or outgoing as her siblings were...much more stand-offish which makes her harder to home but...we'll find someone who can handle her brand of charm eventually.”

Peter grunted slightly and felt something in his chest squeeze a bit at the thought of her being separated from her family. She must be feeling confused and so lonely right now. Peter knew exactly what she must be feeling...he was still dealing with something similar himself...

He let out a started growl when he realized just where his thoughts had gone. He shouldn't be having these thoughts, she was a DOG for heaven's sake...a pet. He glared at Deaton from being responsible for the whole mess and opened his mouth to jump back into his tirade about Pack safety but found the anger was no longer there. He growled harder, which Deaton just took with his normal irritating serenity, and stomped quickly out of the vent clinic.

He did not glance back at the cage before he left. He absolutely did not.

* * *

He thought that would be the last of it.

Except that he found himself thinking about the dog off and on the rest of the day. Found himself thinking about the dog again while he tossed and turned in between nightmares that night. 

Eventually he found himself thinking about running his hand through soft fur as it curled up next to him on the bed and finally managed to drift off into a solid few hours of slumber. If there was someone else curled up in the bed along with them in the fantasy well...Peter wasn't going to allow himself to think to much about that.

He was still half asleep when he barged into the vet clinic the next morning shortly after it opened. Thankfully Scott wasn't working or it would have been an extremely awkward aborted trip. As it was he stormed into the place oh high alert which set off every animal in the place and caused Deaton to sigh and shake his head at him. The dog was still in its cage. It sat there and looked out at him with wide brown eyes clearly not put off by him at all.

He pinned Deaton with an irritated glare as relief coursed through him that she hadn't been adopted out since he'd left the clinic the day before the glare turned to a snarl when he received an answering smug smile flickered across the other man's lips in return.

“I'm not adopting her,” he said firmly.

“Of course not,” Deaton answered as he pulled out a folder filled with paper work.

“I am merely offering to foster her until we can find a more permanent solution,” he said again as much for his own benefit as for the other man.

“Of course,” Deaton repeated not even bothering to hide the smugness from his face as he held out a pen in Peter's direction.

Peter growled softly as he snatched the proffered pen from Deaton's hand.

It took thirty minutes to fill out all the paper work and fifteen more to listen to Deaton's spiel about proper nutrition, when she would need her shots and the time frame for getting her spayed. Peter had nodded and snarled throughout the whole process but hadn't given Deaton the satisfaction of insisting again that he wasn't actually adopting her. He had stared at the space where her name would go on her medical records with the clinic for a long time before snapping it shut and leaving it blank. He wasn't actually adopting her, which meant he wasn't going to be the one who named her.

He settled her into the backseat of the car, with her blanket and ball and a baggie full of kibble that Deaton had given him to start with. Then he knelt down and pinned her with a stern look.

“This car is worth 100 of you,” he said in a low growly tone complete with eyes flashing in warning. “You go to the bathroom back here and I will end you.” She responded with a soft yip and licked his nose, he rubbed at it and huffed in exasperation. “You are nothing but a giant off-colored cotton ball with legs,” he muttered by way of an insult she started panting in his face and he decided to take it for the laughter it undoubtedly was.

He reached out and allowed himself to brush his fingers through her fur. Something that had been tight and frozen inside him melted just a fraction. He snatched his hand away ignoring the soft whine of protest she let out in response to the sudden action. He shut the door and settled into the drivers seat listening to her as she shuffled around in the back seat trying to get comfortable.

“I am not adopting you,” he insisted softly more to himself then to her.

She just sat in the back seat and judged him in silence.

* * *

He ended up taking her to a pet shop in a town an hour away from Beacon Hills. Mostly because it was much better then the box pet store they had in town but also because it lessened the chance of someone from the pack hearing about it. Which was pretty ridiculous when the local Alpha worked at the clinic be got her from and was bound to hear about it from Deaton sooner or later.

He had a feeling that Scott would freak out when he found out and try to take her from him. Even though he had no actually authority to do it. He had made it perfectly clear that Peter was not part of his pack when Peter had gotten out of Eichen House during the fall out from the Dread Doctors debacle. Peter had acted like he hadn't cared and in reality he truly hadn't. He didn't want to be part of Scott's pack any more than Scott wanted him to be part of it. But...he still craved a pack. He was a wolf and to a wolf pack was life. He wanted...no needed...real pack that would become his family and his home. Who wouldn't treat him like he might go on a murderous rampage (it happens one...okay several times and your damned for life with this group evidently) at the drop of the hat. Who wouldn't treat him like dirt....

A cold nose pressed against his cheek interrupted his thoughts. He glanced down at the dog in his arms and before he could stop himself nuzzled closer. He stopped himself just short of scenting her but she didn't seem to have such qualms as she licked his face and then doggy laughed at him as he sputtered when the slobber got into his hair.

“You're lucky you're cute,” he muttered as he held her tightly to his chest and entered the shop.

He ended up spending far too much money. There was the dog bed that she probably would never use, the healthy treats that she would probably get far too often, the food, the pretty purple collar with butterflies on it and a matching leash that they would use only if they went somewhere that required it. There were toys, so many toys, all of which would have their squeakers removed when they got home. 

He turned into the last aisle and stopped in horror. The whole aisle was filled doggy clothing items. The sweaters he could understand, even though he doubted it got cold enough in this area to justify some of the thicker ones, but there were every sort of costume and outfit that you could think of. He couldn't imagine anyone actually putting most of what was there on an animal.  
There was a girl with her chihuahua stuffed into a purse (it was a tiny shaky thing that wore a look of pure “help me, please,” on it's face) searching through what looked to be a dog sized evening gowns for the right size.

Peter glanced down at the dog in his cart who went from looking at the chihuahua in what could only be pity to looking up at him with a look that could only promise death if he even thought about sticking her in something like that. He reached out and grabbed a sundress looking one with butterflies on it and she curled her lips at him in a silent snarl in response.

“For insurance purposes,” he informed her softly. “I find you chewing on my thousand dollar shoes and you'll be wearing this for a month.”

She huffed at him like she clearly didn't believe the threat. 

Peter glanced up and noticed that he had caught the attention of the other lady in the aisle. She was staring at him with open interest. She was beautiful, tall and dark with glittering blue eyes and a knowing smirk. She looked cold and sharp and promised to be a ton of fun for whatever brief time period they agreed upon before hand. Another lifetime Peter would have been all over her. Instead he thought about how he had to get the dog home and get her settled and somehow pup proof the house before she could get into too much trouble. He let his eyes slide over the woman one last time and then turned his attention back to the dog in the cart. 

“We're done, nothing else to see here, let's go home,” Peter murmured to the dog.

The brush off was clear and the woman in the aisle turned from beautiful to angry ugly in a heartbeat as he strolled past her. He smirked down at the dog in the cart as they turned the corner and headed towards the checkouts at the front of the store.

He sighed as he watched the numbers add up on the till. The dog jumped up so that she was pressed against the side of the cart watching things as the cashier moved each item to be scanned. She seemed particularly interested in the ugly purple dinosaur toy she'd snuck into the cart when he wasn't fully paying attention. He knew right off the bat that that was going to be her favorite. Luckily for her it was one of the few that didn't make any sort of extra noise.

“That'll be two hundred and fifteen dollars,” the cashier said cheerfully as she stuffed the rest of the items into the bags.

The dog deflated slightly as she realized she wasn't going to be getting her toy. He rolled his eyes and reached into the bag and pulled it back out as he settled the last of the bags into the cart with her.

“You're lucky I'm rich,” he muttered at the dog as he waved the toy in front of her nose. 

She barked happily, her tail wagging intensely as she snagged it away from him. Peter pretended his heart didn't squeeze in his chest at the thought that he had actually manged to make something happy for a change. He turned his attention to the cashier who was regarding them with a wide smile as she held out a small dog bone treat in the dog's direction.

“He's adorable!” she chirped as she directed him to swipe his credit card.

“She...” he corrected automatically as he pushed the button. “And don't let her hear you say that it'll go to her head...”

“What's her name?” the cashier asked with a laugh. 

“Uhm...” Peter trailed off and turned back to look at the dog who was stopped chewing on the treat long enough to regard him with an expectant expression.

“You more then qualify to get a free name tag...so if you tell me her name I can get that started for you...should only take a few minutes...”

“Stiles...”

The name popped out of his mouth before he could really question it. There was really nothing about this dog that reminded him of the human. Other then the fact that it was adorable, and soft, and had wide brown eyes and was clearly unimpressed with him. He jerked away from the cart with a short growl that 'caused the cashier to jump back as well and stare at him with wide startled eyes. The dog (Stiles) bounced over the pile of bags to get closer to him, tail wagging slightly and eyes bright and worried. He frowned at her and then took a step back towards the cart so he could calm himself by burying his hands in soft fur.

“Ah...well...that's a really nice name,” the cashier said after eying him in trepidation for a moment. “If you'll give me a moment I can get that tag printed up for you.”

“No!” he squawked in fear as he realized what he'd done. “That's not really...her name is still...very much a work in progress right now,” he managed to force out after a moment. The last thing he needed was a member of the pack, or even worse for Stiles, to see the tag, not that he was planning to let any of them anywhere near her but still...just in case...

“Oh well,” she said with a slightly nervous smile at his outburst. “Well why don't we just do up a tag with your phone number on it then. We wouldn't want her to get lost without a way for you to find her again...”

Peter felt his heartbeat ratchet up at the thought of loosing her. He curled his hands a little deeper into her fur. Deaton had mentioned a chip and he'd automatically been against the idea but now...now it was seeming like maybe it would be a good idea. Just to make sure she was safe. He realized that the cashier was waiting for his response and the dog (Stiles) was watching him with a head cocked slightly to the side. She lapped out with her tongue and caught his wrist bringing him fully back into the presence.

“Ah yes...yes...that's a really good idea,” he said with a smile. “Sorry I just...I really didn't expect to get a dog today...it just sort of happened...”

“Ah,” she said relaxing completely with a wide grin. “I completely understand, new parent jitters are to be expected but you'll get used to having her under foot in no time! Just let me get the machine up and running and we'll get you a tag. I think we even have a yellow butterfly one to match her collar.”

“That...” he said with a wry grin that he'd been called out on the butterfly theme that had run rampant all over her stuff. “That would be good.”

A short time later everything was loaded in the trunk and the dog (Stiles) was settled back in the back seat happily chewing on her ugly dinosaur toy. He pulled the car out onto the street and pointed them towards home. He glanced at her while they were stopped at a red light and felt the hard, frozen thing inside him melt just a little bit more.

“I am not adopting you,” he said drawing her attention from her toy to meet his eyes in the mirror. She opened her mouth in a slobbery doggy smile and thumped her tail at him.

Even he didn't believe that anymore at this point.  
* * *


End file.
